


There are no stars

by tesselester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Freckles, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Pining, Sam Ships It, Star Gazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5294375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tesselester/pseuds/tesselester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>there are no stars in the sky. They are all in your eyes, and in your freckles. The freckles you think are imperfections. But they are not. No. They are perfect. Because they are the stars. <i></i></i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	There are no stars

Castiel stares. He stares a lot; he very well has all the time in the world. But, right now he stares at Dean. Has been for the last ten minutes. He stares until he is unaware of how much he is leaning onto his elbows, resting his head on his fists. The more he stares, the more Dean gets flustered and then frustrated, glancing up at Cas every so often. Dean’s agitation is obvious in his movements, but oblivious to Castiel.

In the dim light of the bunker’s library, Cas can just make out the spots dusted across Dean’s nose and cheek bones. So he stares harder and leans closer. 

But Dean is becoming more uncomfortable, “Dude, quit starin’, I’m tryna focus here.”

Cas reels back, remembering his conversation with Dean, years ago, about personal space, telling him it was creepy to stare at people. Dean constantly reminds him of this matter, less often than the first couple of years they’ve known each other, but still constantly. 

Sitting at the end of the table, Sam lifts his head up from the book he was preoccupied with to look up at the two other men. He chuckles to himself softly then goes back to the book he was reading.

“My apologies,” Cas says quietly, slightly embarrassed to have been caught staring at Dean’s freckles. He takes a breath as if to say something next, but stops himself.

Dean notices his hesitation, “you got somethin’ to say, Cas, say it.”

Castiel can’t help but stare again. Freckles, everywhere. Like stars. “I’ve been thinking, people obviously know that freckles are the result of sun exposure, yet they still believe that an angel has kissed them. I don’t understand this theory that you humans have created.”

Now Dean stares at Cas, blinks, and presses his fingers over his eyelids. He’s tired from staring at page after page of lore for 3 hours. 

Dean barely hears Sam laughing to himself before Cas is talking again, “why people think that freckles are the result of a kiss from an angel, is puzzling to me. Mainly because, that is not true—at all… Do you believe that, Dean?” Cas turns to Dean, head slightly tilted, eyebrows furrowed in question.

“Cas, who gives a crap, they’re just freckles, people can think whatever they want, whether they’re friggin _angelic kisses ___or just annoying sun spots, ok?”

Cas looks dissatisfied, staring at Dean’s freckles again, but with less interest. “Apologies.”

“Look, I’m tired, man, I just want to figure out what this _thing ___is that we’re dealing with here, and pass out. You could pick up a book instead of staring holes into my brain. ”

“Yes, I can certainly help.”

“Good,” Dean continues reading the massive book in front of him, his focus on the text.

Castiel stands up and begins searching through the bookshelves. Pulling out a book, he skims through the pages to find the right information.

“Perhaps, it is a lack of self confidence. Maybe people find reassurance in the thought of angels kissing their faces…” he contemplates this idea.

Dean looks up at the ceiling and sighs.

“Are angel kisses flattering?” Cas asks.

“Cas, I swear—!”

“Yes, Cas, it’s flattering. People like to think angels are perfect,” Sam explains, shooting Dean a look, “y’know, white gowns and glowing halos. So, yeah, they think an angel kiss is a gift.”

“Thank you, Sam.” Cas nods to Sam, returning to the table with the book in his hand.

“Well, Cas, you were right about the lack of self confidence thing; some people just don’t like their freckles,” Sam continues, pointedly looking at Dean.

Cas, following Sam’s line of sight, asks, “why?”

“They think freckles are ugly.” Sam shrugs nonchalantly, “Imperfections, y’know?”

“Do you think your freckles are ugly, Dean?” Cas is back to staring.

Sam smiles, “yeah, Dean, do you think your freckles are ugly?” 

Dean glares at Sam. He knows what he’s trying to do. He’s going to make Sam pay for this later. 

“Well, I don’t think they’re _ugly ___. It’s just that I’ve never liked them, okay?”

“Why not? I don’t think that you should be ashamed of your freckles.” 

Dean wants to shoot that smug smile off of Sam’s face, “Cas, it’s fine. I’m not self-conscious of my freckles—” 

“But, you don’t like them.”

“No—”

“I like them.”

Dean stops trying to interrupt Cas, silently replaying his comment, mentally wondering if he was imagining it. after a few seconds of silence Dean suddenly says with a forced smile, “okay… well… I’m beat, i’m gonna continue this tomorrow.”

Castiel is still staring as Dean nods to Sam, gets up and walks out the library. 

Instead of going to sleep though, Dean sneaks out of the bunker when he thinks Sam and Cas have gone to bed. He climbs the small hill that sits atop the bunker, setting down the blanket that he brought out with him, he rests his back against the large building behind him. 

He enjoys the night. He can watch the stars for hours on end and forget all about the problems down here on earth. The silence calms him. He treasures it like he treasures his memories. Memories of his mother, playing ball with Bobby, when Sam was born. These memories are like gold to him, they’re his universe.

As he stares up at the stars he thinks. He thinks about nothing really, but sits there with a string of thoughts running through his head.

It’s only when he hears the crunch of leaves on the ground that he realizes he’s not alone. He watches as Castiel makes his way up the hill to where Dean sits. 

“Can’t sleep?” Cas asks him as he sits beside Dean. 

“Just came out to clear my head. Too much research, y’know?”

Cas nods then looks up at the sky, “Beautiful.” 

Dean hums in appreciation. 

As Dean stares at the stars again, Cas cannot help but stare at Dean once more. In the dim light of the moon he can barely make out the freckles on his cheeks, his eyes are not green in the dark but they still shine in the moonlight. _Beautiful ___. And all he can think is _there are no stars in the sky. They are all in your eyes, and in your freckles. The freckles you think are imperfections. But they are not. No. They are perfect. Because they are the stars. ___

Cas then says, “I think they look like stars…” 

“They are stars, Cas.” 

“They resemble stars more so than angel kisses.” 

“Oh,” Dean looks down in realization, unable to find the words to respond. 

Sure, he never really liked his freckles, he has mentioned it before to Sam way back when he cared about that stuff. But he never really thought of them as stars. Always thinking they were just dark spots on his face that made everything look unclean, not to mention approachable, god forbid people think they can call him freckles and buy him drinks. 

But Cas likes them, compares them to stars, angel kisses, and he’s unsure of what to do with his information. 

He really likes Cas, has always kept that to himself, only acknowledging those emotions when he was alone in his room. He was careful not to accidentally pray to Cas, for fear of him finding out his secret. But now, sitting under the freaking stars with him, he can’t help his pulse from racing. He feels sixteen again, kissing Robin for the first time. 

“Cas…” 

“I like your freckles, Dean.” Cas interrupts, “I like the things that you don’t like about yourself, and you should too, because you’re human and you’re beautiful.” 

Beautiful. He called the stars beautiful. This is getting too much for Dean. 

“Cas, just… stop.” 

“Sorry.” 

_They are all in your eyes… the stars. And in your freckles. They are in the flutter of nerves where your fingers touch my skin. It frightens me, but it’s you, and you always calm me, ___Castiel wants to say.

He wants to tell Dean what he sees in him, why he loves him so much, why he stays with him. But instead watches the stars as if he’s looking at Dean. And for a minute he thinks he sees Dean’s face in the stars. 

“Stop.” Dean quietly says. 

“I didn’t—” 

“Stop,” Dean mumbles once more before reaching his hand up to Cas’s cheek and turning his head to look at Dean. 

Dean looks at Cas’s lips and kisses him. It’s soft, sweet. He wants it to last forever. Dean has had many kisses throughout his life but this feels like his first, like he’s sixteen years old. 

They kiss soft and slow, carefully and tenderly, and when they break apart they rest their foreheads together. Breathing slowly, they linger in the moment, not wanting it to end. They share a quick kiss before pulling apart. 

Dean shyly ducks his head as he tries to hide his smile. When he finally meets Cas’s gaze, he can’t help but kiss him again, and again after that until they’re both flushed and out of breath and cold. They fall asleep under the stars with the blanket wrapped around them. 

In the morning, Sam comes looking for them after searching through the bunker. He finds the two wrapped around each other at the corner of the building, Dean’s head resting in the crook of Cas’s neck. Before shaking them awake he smiled fondly and snapped a quick photo on his phone. 

Cas was awake. Looking at Dean as he cracked open his eyes, he stopped and admired his freckles. Cas, in all his bliss, told Dean what he wanted to the night before. _There are no stars in the sky… they’re in your eyes, your freckles, in your very being, it frightens me, but it’s you, you're my peace. ___

“You’re such a sap.” Dean mutters, kissing his cold nose and gets up. Dean stands and stretches, then looks down at Cas, sitting. Dean looks like he’s about to say something before he catches himself. 

Cas watches Dean walk ahead before Dean turns halfway to the bunker, calling out, “you comin’ in or what?” 

If they get nowhere with their research that day, it’s all because Dean and Cas couldn’t stop smiling at each other from across the table, their legs intertwined underneath. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not good at endings.   
> But this is my first fic ever. yay me.


End file.
